Reaching
by TeenTypist
Summary: Even as a young child, Gwendolen was the sort of girl who saw what she wanted and tried to take it. The early years of the Chant family.


**Author's Note:** This will be just a 2 or 3 chapter story. I'm also working on a 1-shot about how Chrestomanci told Julia and Robert their cousins would be coming to live in the Castle. I'm also considering retelling_ Charmed Life_ from Chrestomanci's point of view, if there's enough interest. Please let me know!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, but I adore them and hope to do the late DWJ tribute by bringing them into new stories.

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><p>From the day she was born, everyone said she was a beautiful baby. Her eyes were large and open, a beautiful shade of blue. The hair adorning her head like a crown was soft and golden, though it barely covered her skin. Frank and Caroline Chant were proud as they welcomed the writhing, screaming bundle of baby into their cramped apartment. The Chants were home.<p>

The neighbor from downstairs came up that evening with a tray of slightly mushy cake to coo over the newborn. She had heard the babe's cries as they carried her up the stairs and was determined to be the first in the neighborhood to see the new arrival. "Have y'thought of a name for her yet, loves?" she asked.

It took quite a wrench to pull her face away from that of her daughter's, but Caroline managed. "Yes, just this morning. Gwendolen Francine Chant."

They made polite conversation for a time. Frank held his daughter while Caroline fetched some tea to go with the cake. One cup had a slight chip in it, but every piece of crockery and silverware was immaculately clean. When the cake and tea had disappeared, the neighbor took her leave of them. She had paid calls on them a few times in the past seven months since they had arrived in Wolvercote. They seemed quite respectable and Caroline was very neighborly, though Frank had often struck Ellen has a little aloof. Never mind that, it wasn't her business. Ellen Sharp certainly never stuck her nose in anything that wasn't her business. Of course not. As she left, she smiled broadly at them. "It's so wonderful that she looks like such a healthy baby, being born early and all," she said as she departed, off to tell the neighbors over the fence about the new baby.

Frank closed the door behind her rather harder than necessary. Caroline's voice was soft, "Careful, or you'll wake her." It had taken some time to calm her when they arrived, and the squishy bundle in her arms had only fallen asleep ten minutes ago.

"She had no business saying that."

"Well, we're still new here. It won't do for us to alienate all of our neighbors. The friendly ones are the closest thing we have to family anymore." She paused. "I know what our parents are like, but do you think we ought to write to Christopher and tell him he has a niece?"

Frank snorted quietly.

She rose and carried Gwendolyn to her crib. "I've never understood why the two of you don't get on."

Frank said nothing. He hadn't shown her the letter he'd received some months back from their cousin. Christopher had been and idiot to suggest such a thing. Why would Frank want to deprive his children of witchcraft? It would help them get along in the world. Just because it was Christopher's job to regulate magic in the larger world didn't mean it was hi job to police it in Frank's own home...or flat. Caroline had found the letter after he had already made his reply. She agreed with him, it would be wrong to take away a talent which their children ought to have naturally. Both of their fathers had been enchanters after all. But she never wanted Frank to try and keep another secret from her again. They were in is together. She laid her daughter in amongst the freshly painted white bars. Gwendolen started to cry, protesting at leaving her mother's arms.

The secondhand mobile they had bought and hung over the crib made a guttering sound and refused to start as Caroline wound up the key. She sighed and murmured a few words and the mobile began to play. She rubbed her temples. She might even be able to nap for an hour or so while her darling slept.

The little animal shapes twirled overhead with their bright colors and soft music, while Gwendolen watched and listened, transfixed. Her crying stopped. She lifted her pudgy fists towards the mobile, wanting the pretty music and colors.

The music stopped. Gwendolyn began crying again.

"I'll get it," offered Frank. He came into the bedroom and performed the spell on the mobile, willing the gears to turn properly for his little princess. When the music was playing again, he picked her up and rocked her until she fell asleep.

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><p>Gwendolen was four years old. She had a halo of golden ringlets around her head. She was standing in the kitchen, glaring up at the cookie jar. She <em>wanted<em> those cookies. She reached out her arms, but they were far out of reach. She glared, reaching, willing the cookies to come to her. The jar trembled but didn't move. She stamped her foot. She _wanted_ those cookies!

Her mother came into the kitchen then to put the final touches on dinner, humming, and smiling at Gwendolyn. "Don't stamp your foot,

She felt the power inside her get a little stronger. The jar tipped sideways and rolled off the counter with a crash. Gwendolen managed to grab a piece of cookie before her mother putting a holding spell on the floor around broken jar. "I had no idea you were so strong yet," Caroline said, picking Gwendolen up and resting her on her hips. "You're getting to be such a big girl. Why don't you sit in the living room while Mummy cleans up?" She carried Gwendolen into the living room and set her down on the couch.

Gwendolen waited until her mother was out of the room before she opened her hand and bit into the piece of cookie she had snared. Unfortunately, there was a bit of smashed cookie jar in it and she yelped, just as her father came in from work.

As her father started murmuring the proper words to heal her bloody tongue, Gwendolen was able to feel the magic flowing out of him. She didn't know what to call it, except that it was the same as when she wanted the cookies. She pulled that feeling to her close. Her father finished healing her and kissed her forehead. He picked her up in her arms and went over to kitchen and kissed his wife.

"Is Gwendolen all right?" she asked. "I was just cleaning up. The cookie jar toppled over a few minutes ago."

Frank set his daughter in the chair at the small kitchen table. "Did you touch any of the broken pieces? You know you're not supposed to eat cookies before dinner. No dessert tonight."

Gwendolen continued to look sulky throughout the meal. While her mother was doing dishes, her father winked and gave her a cookie. When her mother tucked her into bed, she gave her a cookie. She smiled brightly.

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><p>Gwendolen Chant was four and a half years old. Her mother was at the market doing some food shopping, and Gwendolen was home with her father. Frank Chant was sitting, reading the paper. Gwendolen was staring down at her doll. It wouldn't move or do anything interesting. It just lay there. She wanted it to <em>move<em>. It didn't.

She reached for that place inside herself that had made the cookie jar tip. There wasn't enough there. She _reached_ and found that her father had that same something in him. She pulled at it. She couldn't help giggling as the doll stood up and began to twirl. She clapped delightedly.

So engrossed was he in the paper that it was a few moments before Frank felt there was something wrong, something was using his magic. He took it back. Looking around, puzzled.

Gwendolen's doll hit the floor and she pouted.

"I something wrong, sweetie?"

"My doll stopped."

He frowned, biting his lip. "Try again." This time, aware of what was happening, he felt her leech onto his magic. It explained several incidents over the past few months. The doll danced nicely for being controlled by a four and a half year old. He took his magic back again and set the newspaper down next to the chair. The doll collapsed again. "Gwendolen, come here." He pulled her into his lap. "Darling, do you know what you were doing?"

"The doll dances."

"Yes, you used magic. But, sweetie, you need to use your magic, that's in here." He tapped her on the nose. "You have magic. When you're older, I'll teach you how to use it. Right now, I just want you to be a good girl and play."

She stuck out her lower lip. "I want my dolly to dance."

"Well," he sighed, trying to figure out how to go on. "You know it's wrong to take something that isn't yours, don't you?"

She nodded dutifully. She had tried to take a pretty barrette from a girl at the park a few weeks ago. They hadn't had another play-date since and she'd been scolded afterwards. She didn't like it. "But…you and Mummy say everything at home is _ours_. That's me too."

"Princess, magic is something you're born with. I have some, and your mother has some, and you have some. You can't take someone else's magic. That's like stealing part of them. You wouldn't pull someone's hair out of their head, would you?"

Gwendolen said nothing. Taking the other girl's barrette, she had also ended up with a handful of brown hair. The smaller girl had cried.

Realizing that this line of reasoning wasn't getting terribly far, Frank decided to shelve the conversation for the time being. He amused Gwendolen with small illusions for a while until she had properly forgotten about the doll. He resolved to mention it to Caroline when she came home so they could both be doing what they could to prevent their precocious darling from tapping into their magic.


End file.
